Page 74 of Crossing the Line
But he can’t know more than I do… can he?
* * *
At six o’clock inthe evening, I enter the Blue Cherry on Eighth Street. When I looked into the mirror before heading out, the color had come back to my face, and the dark circles under my eyes had magically disappeared. I felt really good after my talk with Max, despite what he said before leaving. I stared after him for a long time until something finally occurred to me—Max hadn’t been privy to my intimate moments with Hercules.
But Max never makes flippant comments. I’ve been wondering if he knows something I don’t. I should have called Hercules right away, but I was pressed for time. I’ll call him as soon as I leave the bar.
Through a sea of mostly pretty female faces, my eyes locate my former assistant sitting at our favorite area at the bar. The reason there are so many women patrons is that the Blue Cherry only serves fruity and dessert-flavored cocktails. They use organic juices, natural flavoring, and alcohol, which indeed is a city girl’s dream bar.
Ru frowns as I approach. When I’m closer she smiles as she slips off her stool. Then we hug like we’re really going to miss each other.
“Oh, I already miss you,” she whines.
“I already miss you too.”
Finally, we release each other and take our seats. Ru has already ordered me a lemon cream pie drop. “It’s on me,” she says.
I thank her, and she goes right into telling me all about her morning. Apparently, my office was cleaned out when she arrived.
“First I wondered whether the carpet was being shampooed. You know, like last time. But then your sourpuss brother walked into my space and announced that I was being reassigned to support a new executive.”
I can imagine how insensitive Max’s approach might have been. He’s not one for exercising tact. “I’m so sorry, Ru.”
Before I’m able to explain why he reassigned her, she grunts, throws a hand up, and says, “Then he asked, ‘Aren’t you and Paisley friends?’ I said yes. And then he warned me not to discuss work matters with you. I mean, I got his drift. He didn’t want me to say anything to you about what he was doing. He even told me exactly what to write in an email to you. I mean, really, Paisley, I know he’s your brother and all, but he’s got a serious God complex. What happened to him growing up? Why are you two so different?”
Ru looks like she’s waiting to hear my answer. Truthfully, I have no clue about why Max and I are like night and day.
“I don’t know why he and I are so different. But he stopped by my apartment this afternoon.”
Ru appears taken aback. “He did?”
“Yes.”
“After all that, he showed up at your place. Did he just want to act like an asshole?”
I chuckle uncomfortably as I ponder explaining my brother to her. She would need insight into him to understand why he went about reassigning her the way he did. But Ru’s right about Max’s God complex. He wants to control how she and I discuss his actions.
That’s simple enough to grasp, but I just say, “It’s a family matter. And he knew I would quit, and that was why he reassigned you.”
Her jaw drops. “You quit the company?”
“Yes. I did.” I lift my cocktail to my lips. I feel subdued about my decision as I take my first sip. “Um,” I hum with my eyes closed, relishing the flavor. “Delicious as always.”
“Don’t they make the best cocktails?” She takes a swig of her own lemon cream pie drop. “By the way, they reassigned me to Daniel Walton in the digital art department. I never met him—have you?”
I smile, reassuring her. “I have, and he’s a good guy. You’ll like him.”
She puts a hand on my shoulder as she sighs with relief. “Thank you.”
And just like that, discussion about Max and her horrible day ceases. Ru starts in on her favorite subject, her boyfriend Rob and their latest adventures. I’ve met Rob a handful of times, and he strikes me as an energy sucker. Like, the topic of discussion has to be about him or nothing at all. I think that was why she made the best assistant ever. Ru, as beautiful and enigmatic as she is, prefers taking a back seat to a needier, more charismatic personality. She’s reactive when it comes to Max, though, which surprises me. Rob is way worse. And apparently, he’s selling his mother’s Upper East Side townhouse and has saddled her with a bunch of tasks that he should pay somebody to do. She says Rob asked her to call various staging companies and make a list of prices.
I snort sarcastically and gaze off to the side. And that’s when I notice someone staring at me. My head feels like it’s taking a nosedive, and it’s not from my cocktail.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
“What is it?” Ru asks.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, my eyes remaining pinned to Lauren, who’s staring back at me.
